It's Sunday night now, about eleven o'clock, and I am supposed to be getting some beauty sleep, but I had black coffee for dinner, so—no beauty sleep for me!
This morning, said Mrs. Semple to Mr. Pendleton, with a very determined accent:
"We have to leave here at a quarter past ten in order to get to church by eleven."
"Very well, Lizzie," said Master Jervie, "you have the buggy ready, and if I'm not dressed, just go on without waiting."
"We'll wait," said she.
"As you please," said he, "only don't keep the horses standing too long."
Then while she was dressing, he told Carrie to pack up a lunch, and he told me to scramble into my walking clothes; and we slipped out the back way and went fishing.
It discommoded the household dreadfully, because Lock Willow of a Sunday dines at two. But he ordered dinner at seven—
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